


POWERLESSNESS

by SkekLa



Series: A thousand years have passed [9]
Category: The Dark Crystal (1982)
Genre: Things get darker for skeksis, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27758341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkekLa/pseuds/SkekLa
Summary: A small tale I wrote quite long ago and left untranslated (the original was in spanish) for way too long ^^;I decided to upload it today so to keep the account a bit more active ^^It's just a small AU story, where we can see how dark things became for the skeksis to this point in my Au's development.I hope you'll all enjoy the small read .
Series: A thousand years have passed [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518779
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	POWERLESSNESS

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this story is meant to take place in an Alternate Universe where certain things might differ from canon. Albeit, this is heavily based off the classic Dark Crystal movie (1982) hence some of the canon and characterisations might sound off to anyone who´s not familiar with the movie and the old associated lore.
> 
> All the canon lore and recogniseable characterisations for canon characters within these fanworks are based off the classic movie and its associated 80´s book and note lore, and/or Legends of the Dark Crystal (2007). *Also referencing Brian Froud´s Creation Myths (2011)concerning the fate of two skeksis right after the splitting*
> 
> The rest of what´s seen at my fanworks is just personal headcanon.

Waddling through every dark hallway, checking one place after another, spying from behind every door and bend- the Illustrator was growing crescently nervous. 

_Where have you gone to?... why aren´t you at the Treasury chamber or the Throne room at these hours? I wonder if you ended up being assigned to carry on with some sort of task at the Library...I could try to seek for you there, but if skekOk´s already there I´ll be forced to remain there for daily work, and that will force me to stop looking for you...Oh, what on Thra could have made you vanish like this?..._

She had been searching for the Chamberlain most everywhere. There seemed to be no trace of him at all.

She had meant to tell him they needed to set a new meeting with skekEkt and skekAyuk; the Ornamentalist seemed extremely anxious to have him know about some fresh gossip his keen ears had picked up- rumors that could be beneficial for all four of them. SkekEkt had not squealed this time, he had not made a fuss about it. Both skekAyuk and skekLa knew he had stumbled upon vital information when they saw how oddly grave his behaviour was. The Ornamentalist had been cryptic and asked for an urgent meeting saying that, were they to use this new secret wisely, their allegiance could rise one step further into power, higher in the social scale of the court: this was the kind of opportunity that should not be wasted.

SkekSil, however, was nowhere to be found.

After checking the Library- within which a small crew of podling slaves was fervently brooming and mopping over dust-laced floors and furniture while the Scrollkeeper placidly slept with his head resting onto his work table - and the Kitchen itself for the second time - crowded with slaves that desperately tried to keep up the frantic work pace imposed by the Gourmand´s orders - skekLa headed towards the only place she had not dared looking upon: the higher floor of the Castle, where most of the skeksis´personal chambers were.

Her nervousness grew with every step she´d take, and her heart was pounding within her sunken chest in a really painful manner.

_´Sil...where are you?..._

The only voices she could hear at the upper floor were those of the General and the Slave Master, both seemed to be hoarsely laughing about something.

SkekLa knew that most of the courtiers would be working at such time of day, so this struck her as an odd event, one worthy of some closer inspection, perhaps some useful eavesdropping. However, there was no time for that at the moment- she had to locate her ally, and could just let him know about this small oddity later, once their meeting at the kitchen was done.

Determined to find her companion, the Illustrator furtively headed to the Imperial chamber, with a gnawing doubt eating at her nerves.

Would he be there? With Him? Had he perhaps been summoned to meet the Emperor for a private discussion? Was the Emperor, by any chance, way too tired or pained as to conduct a formal meeting at the Throne room, as was typically done?...

Tripping on her own long, threadbare black skirt, skekLa dared step close to the ellegant knotwork-patterned bars which adorned the walls of the Imperial chamber.

The Emperor´s habitations were magnificent: by far, the most spatious and impressive of the entire castle.

Cautiously approaching the door, she could hear some faint sounds within the room.

It was then that she remembered a small hole the Chamberlain had once told her about. One that was carved at the furtherback wall of that chamber. One which would allow a silent observer to watch without being seen...

SkekLa followed the wall until she found the gap, then she carefully bent in complete silence, and stuck an eye to it.

The first thing she saw was a reduced panorama: barely a bit of what was a vast chamber.

A tiny space dimly lit by a warm light, some purple drapes, the corner of a small ornate table, and part of a chair.

Suddenly- with a low, dry thump- a blurry form crossed through her reduced visual field in a flutter of heavy velvet garments, landing on the floor and throwing down the table in its violent fall.

The Illustrator´s blood froze at the sight.

It was skekSil.

The Chamberlain remained on the floor, pressing a hand against his beak with a bewildered and pained expression .

Surprisingly, he was not whimpering like he used to.

Another figure, clad in gaudy garments of gold, black and dark red approached a moment later, emmitting a low threatening growl, and with a cruelly quick and precise movement, struck a vicious hit upon the fallen skeksis´ back with a staff it carried in its hand.

SkekLa had to repress a gasp. She felt like she was stuck to the floor where she was standing, unable to even blink before the scene unfolding in front of her eyes.

The Emperor, for some reason she couldn´t really fathom, was flogging skekSil.

And she knew she was completely unable to stop him.

-“ Hmmm, Sire- !”- stuttered the Chamberlain before receiving another hit, this time aimed at his shoulders- “Hmmm, Sire! Please! Stop...!”

With a hiss that sounded like his innards were boiling out of his beak, the Emperor stepped forth towards his prey, stamping his feet on the floor in his wrath and wielding his walking staff like a weapon in his blind fury.

His voice, however, was as carefully low as it needed to be: noone at the lower floors of the Castle would be able to hear the racket. Form and appearances had to be kept.

\- “You accursed **imbecile.** You do nothing other than talking. You talk, and **talk** , while I fall to pieces. You have to make the Scientist **work harder** into producing new essence with an effect as lasting as gelfling´s! I do not care where he may drain it from: it is your duty as my secretary of estate to keep an eye on skekTek, press on him, have him work harder and produce that essence, and you will do it immediately. It is not I who needs to deal with his incompetence, I have already suffered the effects of his slow progress for too long!”

SkekSil, who clearly did not dare to get up from his abashed position, was attempting to drag himself backwards across the floor- tripping and tangling with his own robes, his head held low- breath hitching so badly that it made him look like he was about to suffer a stroke.

\- “Sire...Please...I implore you- Hmm, I swear I´m doing everything I can, the Scientist´s doing the best he can too- but he--he told me he thinks it´s impossible to get the same old results without gelfling essence!...I tried to warn you about not killing all of them- tried to tell you you would need that resource some day, Sire, but you wouldn´t--“-

Evidently, skekSil´s words had not constituted a good choice at the time.

The old Emperor resumed his charge against him before he managed to finish his last sentence, silently roaring within his throat, and his staff came down hard upon the Chamberlain one, two, six times, reaching any place skekSil could not shield with his arms quickly enough.

-“ Shut your beak, you useless wretch. You are a fraud, skekSil. Had you insisted more back then, when you had something relevant to say, I might have listened. But now it is too late, is it not? ...you miserable, scheming buffoon, you are going to make the Scientist do his job like he must, and redouble his efforts until he gets me the essence I need. And that will be done. Right. Now. I have no further time to lose with hearing you snivel and appologise for your constant failures.”

The Emperor´s staff seemed to punctuate every word, striking and poking viciously at skekSil´s back.

The Chamberlain was now reduced to a tremulous ball which barely moved.

A moment later, panting to catch his breath, the Emperor finally planted his staff on the floor in front of him, bending forward to lean upon it in a sudden fit of exhaustion.

-“ You are useless, skekSil. You are not even good to relieve my anger with. Begone. You have paperwork to do, and a most urgent task to fulfill...”

Everything had happened in barely minutes.

For skekLa, it had felt like an eternity.

Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, her blood was boiling, she felt an impossible urge to barge into the chamber and strangle the Emperor with her bare hands.

Her closest ally.

_Her skekSil._

She had just remained there, watching how that decrepit old tyrant humiliated him, hurt him, and she had been unable to do anything to stop it.

The Illustrator had to lean her weight against the wall and close her eyes tight, struggling to repress a rain of curses which threatened to erupt from her beak.

After a brief moment, the doors of the Imperial Chamber slowly swung open, and the Chamberlain emerged from the room bearing a studiedly normal expression- even though his left arm looked oddly stiff and his right hand seemed to be casually clasping at it.

When he took the bend that would lead him to the stairs to the lower floor, he met with the Illustrator, who was still leaning against the wall, breathing intensely, looking at him with wide, bewildered eyes.

Giving a small, defeated nod, skekSil let her know he acknowledged the fact that she had seen everyting.

SkekLa replied with a nod of her own, parting from the wall to walk by his side and- after making sure that no living thing but them was to be found at that place at the time- hold him tight for a fleeting instant.

Both skeksis then walked in awkward silence, shoulder to shoulder, down the stairs and toward the kitchen.

The Chamberlain was still trying to disimulate a vague tremor. There was a faint scent of blood coming from his heavy velvet robes, there where the staff had hit hardest.

The Illustrator kept clenching her teeth and holding back the tears. She knew her face would draw unwanted attention if she’d end up having to wipe her eyes, smearing the black makeup she had painted upon her eyelids.

They still had skekAyuk’s kitchen.

At the kitchen, there would be safety.

There would be confidenciality.

Friendlier faces, ears that would perhaps listen about this, if they deemed convenient to tell them about it.

The Ornamentalist´s gossips would have to wait.

Something far more urgent had just surged.

It had finally came -the time to talk, all too seriously, about the Emperor.

About all the possible -subtle or direct- ways in which they might manage to quicken their- so far vague- plans to overthrow him.

Perhaps they would never dare to carry on with said plan.

Perhaps, skekSo would reach the next conjunction alive, and he would sit on his throne for all eternity.

Whatever might happen, noone could steal them their right to scheme, contrive, and wish for a different outcome.

They had already waited too long.

**Author's Note:**

> *DISCLAIMER*
> 
> This is a fanstory, unofficial work.
> 
> It may not be used or redistributed without written consent.
> 
> Story © SkekLa :iconskekla:
> 
> All publically recognizeable canon The Dark Crystal characters, settings and situations © Jim Henson / Brian Froud/Universal studios
> 
> (No commercial use or copyright infringement are intended)


End file.
